"This thing is excellent."
That was Zhang Zhongjing's entire evaluation of the obstetrical forceps.
The venerable physician was no stranger to gynecology, though obstetrics was not his specialty. Still, traveling through an age of chaos had one advantage: experience was never in short supply.
After pondering it briefly, he more or less grasped how the tool was meant to be used. All that remained was to find an opportunity to test it.
As for all that messy business about fighting over heirs and imperial thrones, the old doctor could not care less. Right now, the only thing on his mind was when the meeting would end, so he could hurry back and commission a blacksmith to forge one and try it out.
There was also the question of whether, with some modifications, it could be used on pigs, cattle, or sheep.
After all, in times like these, no matter how one looked at it, the life of an ox was worth more than that of a man.
Zhuge Liang, meanwhile, could only smile bitterly as he read about the causes of difficult childbirth described by later generations, sighing again and again.
Early marriage led to early childbirth.
Early childbirth led to more difficult deliveries.
Yet in an age of chaos such as this, what could truly be done?
Men were supposed to receive their coming-of-age caps at twenty, yet seventeen- or eighteen-year-olds marching into battle were everywhere.
Women were meant to reach maturity at fifteen, yet marriages at twelve or thirteen were hardly rare.
Such folk customs could not be changed by a decree or two, nor by adjusting a single year.
And as he continued to write and sketch, Zhuge Liang's thoughts went deeper. If later marriage truly reduced difficult births, then the root of the problem lay in physical robustness.
And what affected physical robustness?
Enough food. Warm clothing.
Which meant the problem circled right back to the environment of a chaotic age.
If the common people could learn when young, be employed when strong, and be cared for when old, then perhaps the shortcomings casually mentioned by later generations would no longer exist.
In the end, it all came down to education.
And perhaps continuing to follow Empress He's example—ensuring that both men and women could learn.
There was also another thought…
What if the coming-of-age ceremony for men and the hairpin ceremony for women were set at the same age?
But the moment he considered reforming ritual itself, even Zhuge Liang felt a faint headache coming on.
Looking back, after pacifying the Three Qins, he already felt certain of victory against Cao Cao.
But looking ahead, the road to restoring the Han still stretched endlessly before him.
At the very least, Zhuge Liang felt that female physicians were absolutely necessary—though the obstacles were obvious even without thinking too hard.
And yet… oddly enough, once he reached this point in his thoughts, his heart felt lighter.
At least they did not need to grope blindly along this long road. They only needed to judge the times.
That alone could be called a blessing.
[Lightscreen]
[As Wu Zetian, already approaching eighty, grew increasingly wary of the crown prince, the Zhang brothers became the direct beneficiaries, their power and prestige rising by the day.
In 703, a household slave of Zhang Yizhi ran rampant in Chang'an, bullying others and breaking the law, only to be caught on the spot by Chancellor Wei Yuanzhong, who had him beaten to death.
There is a saying: even when beating a dog, one must consider its owner.
Zhang Yizhi immediately displayed the characteristic style of the Wu Zhou era, fabricating a charge of treason against Wei Yuanzhong.
The matter itself was trivial. He simply had his younger brother Zhang Changzong whisper into the old lady's ear, claiming that he had privately overheard Chancellor Wei Yuanzhong and Court Gentleman Gao Jian saying:
"The Empress Dowager is old. It would be better to seize the crown prince and plan for the long term."
It was an accusation that clearly had not passed through the brain, yet it still provoked Wu Zetian's fury. She summoned all parties to confront each other on the spot.
Zhang Changzong was fearless. To ensure the charge stuck, he had even bribed Zhang Shuo, a Drafter of the Phoenix Pavilion, to give false testimony in court.
What he did not expect was that Zhang Shuo had already been bought off by Song Jing of the Li-Tang faction. When he met the old lady, Zhang Shuo burst into tears on the spot and spilled everything—how Zhang Changzong had threatened and bribed him to commit perjury.
The entire sequence of events was laid bare.
Wu Zetian, judging "according to the facts," delivered a just verdict:
Wei Yuanzhong was stripped of his post as chancellor and demoted to county commandant of Gaoyao in Duanzhou.
Faced with such a ruling, there was nothing anyone could do. Yet the old lady still felt it was not enough and continued to tighten the screws.
In 704, many key officials of the Eastern Palace were reassigned to distant posts. Among them were Chancellor Wei Anshi and Chancellor Tang Xiujing, both of whom simultaneously served as major Eastern Palace officials and were core supporters of the crown prince.
One was sent to the northeast.
The other was dispatched to Yangzhou.
With the old lady pressing step by step, the elder statesmen of the Li-Tang faction could no longer endure it. They began preparing to ask the sovereign to retire.
In 705, the first year of the Shenlong era, Wu Zetian fell gravely ill, giving the Li-Tang elders their chance. Yet her sensitivity to power remained acute. She had no intention of letting go and instead temporarily delegated authority to the ministers she trusted most.
At this moment, Di Renjie was probably laughing in heaven.
Because in the end, Lord Di had won a decisive move—one that checkmated the old lady's last sliver of hope.
Di Renjie had died in 700. From the death of Lai Junchen, to Di Renjie's return to court as chancellor, to the end of Wu Zhou's reign of terror under the cruel officials, Lord Di had effectively served as the repairman of Wu Zetian's late political career.
Naturally, the old lady had once asked who might succeed Lord Di. Seizing the opportunity, Di Renjie had recommended more than a dozen people in one breath.
And when Wu Zetian fell gravely ill, the ministers she relied upon—Zhang Jianzhi and the rest—were almost all on Di Renjie's list.
History has always cared deeply about legitimacy.
Forcing the ruler to abdicate would leave historians with no pen to write with. Thus, Zhang Jianzhi and the others obediently raised the banner of "clearing the sovereign's side of treacherous ministers."
With righteous justification secured, the next step was to place the crown prince in the proper position.
Unfortunately, Li Xian was very unwilling.
His reasoning was perfectly logical: the old lady was gravely ill. He only needed to wait—the throne would eventually be his. Why stir things up? What if he frightened her and earned himself a reputation for filial impiety? Not worth it. He refused to play.
At the critical moment, Li Xian's son-in-law, Wang Tongjiao, did not bother arguing. He picked up his elderly father-in-law, stuffed him onto a horse, and led the horse straight to the coup meeting.
Thus, Zhang Jianzhi and the others transformed from "clearing the sovereign's side" into "acting on the crown prince's command to execute traitors to the state."
This coup was very similar to the one Li Shimin had carried out back then.
The key lay at the Xuanwu Gate.
Comrade Li Erfeng need not get excited, however—this was the Xuanwu Gate of Luoyang.
The gate commander, Li Duozuo, was very perceptive. He declared that everything he had was owed to the grace of the Heavenly Emperor, and that now was the time to repay it.
"Brothers, follow me and eliminate the traitors!"
The Xuanwu Gate fell without the slightest effort. Li Duozuo himself joined with five hundred imperial guards. Inside the palace, Princess Taiping had long prepared internal support. The group advanced unimpeded and blocked their old leader directly on her sickbed.
After this coup—so smooth it almost felt eerie—Wu Zhou officially came to an end, and Li Xian ascended the throne, restoring the Tang dynasty.]
"Just as I thought—something's off."
Li Shimin frowned.
Though he was entirely unfamiliar with these descendants, as someone who had personally planned and carried out a coup, Li Shimin understood the dangers all too well.
The entire affair seemed reasonable on the surface, yet many details simply did not add up.
Take Li Xian's own reasoning. As crown prince in the prime of life, facing a mother already at death's door, he could have waited calmly. Why take such a risk?
The same went for those loyal elder ministers. They had endured fifteen years already—could they not wait a few more months? A coup was no child's play. Failure meant extermination of one's entire clan.
Unless—
"The true master behind the Shenlong Coup was someone else."
Li Shimin stated his conclusion with certainty.
And if one followed the trail of motives, then combined it with the knowledge of who would ultimately rise to power, the answer was not hard to guess.
"The Prince of Xiang… Li Dan."